


Body Language

by KyraEleison



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, NSFW, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, RPF, Shameless Smut, Skype Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyraEleison/pseuds/KyraEleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the distance is too big and the hunger is too strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Language

11.17 PM and I've never been more on time. There's a certain pride running through me when I think about the inimical relationship between me and the clock. Lee knows me too well. And he usually has way more fun at my expense than it would be reasonable while I'm desperately trying to catch up with myself after agreeing on additional, non-planned activities. Take something as basic and facile as a shower for example. Piece of cake, right? Fifteen minutes, maybe ten if you really need to rush. And that's where the Pace method comes in, making a simple task significantly harder to execute, appearing out of thin air to offer a helping hand for soaping and the minutes are stretching longer, fingers forgetting about the fragrant, silky lather, demanding for other things instead. And we're suddenly guaranteed to be late.

Not tonight.

I've lost casting of how many lonely showers I had in the past three weeks and today is not any different, except for the mysterious message he left me yesterday. The one that is due in less than half an hour and I catch myself breathing quicker as the deadline approaches.

' _Late night date tomorrow, 11.30 PM. Just you and me._ '

Who cares about those 3.500 miles between our current locations? Neither of us, apparently. The thought makes me giggle. He's the master of problem solving. The capability or remaining focused must be his secret weapon, being immune to the circumstances and soaring above physical limits like they don't even exist. I'm too excited and it has nothing to do with the special occasion. Days go by, nights go by and I'm counting back like a kid before Christmas just to finally have him back by my side. I'm scratching out another square in the calendar, six more to go. I got this. Time to pop the champagne open. Who cares if I only have one mouth to go with, two glasses are prepared on the coffee table, right next to the computer. We're having a toast together in spirit and that's enough reason by itself to pour for both of us. An almost pathetic way to ease the void.

He's calling exactly on time, what else was I expecting from Mr. Decency? Nevertheless, the sound makes my heart skip a beat, yet my reflexes are still tensed and ready. I'm quicker than an attacking cobra, clicking on the green button without wasting a moment of precious time.

I bite my lip as soon as the picture comes in. His shirtless body gives me an instant reminder of how much I miss the safety of his smooth, warm skin against mine during the darkest of the night.

'Morning, Princess.' His voice is raspy, sounding even deeper than the usual while painted with a hint of sleep, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. The long fingers are attempting to tame the bed hair situation but it's a pointless fight. A slight shadow of stubble is already showing though I'm sure he's relatively freshly shaven. Every nerve in my body reacts to his sight, my heart is having an emotional orgasm and I'm drowning in a sea of affection.

'Evening, monkey.' I'm not shying away from being slightly theatrical while blowing him a kiss. He's a witty playmate who never seems to let me down, reaching out with a steady hand before placing it on his heart with a gentle move. Why not laugh straight into the face of distance and have a little fun regardless of the less than optimal situation. 'Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful.' A colorful batch of tulips is now resting in a standing vase. I couldn't guess the number of strands for the life of mine but the bouquet was half the size of the delivery guy, making it feel like an actual jungle expedition to find him somewhere on the other side. Long story short, he was there.

'You're welcome, I would've loved to deliver it myself.' It's adorable how modest we are with words, yet our eyes are ferocious as ever. All the things we have to say are rarely suitable to be interpreted through a notebook screen, no. They're supposed to be whispered right into the curve of the neck, leaving goosebumps so they can be read like Braille. There's a specific type of pain for occasions when the yearning for someone is simply too much to handle and here we are, staring like we stand a chance to win against patience.

I watch him watching me as the corners of his lips curl upwards, noticing the dark blue button up shirt I'm wearing. For him, it's a piece of regular, everyday clothing. For me, it's a dress and a fully appropriate way to compensate his whereabouts. I've been living out of his wardrobe lately and this specific outfit is not on me by coincidence. Considering the heavy breaths he's taking, I'm not the only one remembering _that_ first occasion. The memories are vivid as ever, leaving me stunned by the effect of it. I touch the rolled up sleeve as a completely unconscious reaction, making both of us believe for half a second that it's not only the fabric I'm stroking but his skin.

'God, I miss you.'

I know he does.

I know we would miss out on dinner tonight and go for the most coveted attraction instead, celebrate on every solid surface of the apartment until our muscles won't cooperate anymore and we pass out of sweet exhaustion with limbs and fingers entangled to start it all over again by the appearance of the first, hazy rays of sunshine.

I swallow hard.

'I miss you, too, monkey.' There's no point in starting a tear-jerking monologue, even though it takes quite an effort to keep a straight face but there is a bottle of alcohol within arm's reach and I would rather chug it down than make him feel bad about doing his job. I'm a big girl. I can handle four weeks of separation from the man that knows how to constantly keep me on my toes, have my soul well fed and nourished, pushing the limits of my body straight up to the stratosphere while making me beg for more.

'Champagne?'

'Champagne. I love the fact that you're having it for breakfast.' The deep giggle is honey for my ears and I get lost in it, barely managing to get the cork out.

'Desperate needs call for desperate actions, sweetheart.' By the time I pour from the light rose colored liquid, he's only waiting for me to join in. I see the pair of glasses he prepared and my heart sinks down to my ankles. 'Happy anniversary.'

'Happy anniversary and happy homecoming soon.'

We don't waste time to drink ceremoniously, that point has been passed weeks ago. Too bad that the thirst can't really be soothed this way. It only gets worse. The more I see him, the less satisfied I feel, my body aching with desire. The agony we share.

'It's a particularly nasty type of torture.' I agree, but the huskiness of his voice is simply astonishing, firing up the already coarse intentions that I'm trying to repress. He's unaware just yet but I'll make sure to be an imposing guide.

'You brought me on a date, now what, big boy? Where would you go next?'

'Theoretically speaking?'

'I want to know what your plans are. Who said that you can't daze me?' I cock my head to the side, granting a bit of time to let the words sink into his mind. The stare is so intense I can barely stand it without moaning up.

'Where would I go next? To rudely take over your personal space in every way possible until you show me what's hiding underneath that shirt. Or plan B, where I would go and find it all out by myself while you're softly squirming under me.' I'm more than impressed. He's about to school me in my own game without a blink, raising his brows at me rather provocatively.

'I like both. But what if I'd tell you, not theoretically speaking, that I do have something underneath this shirt. For you.' He leans back in his seat, a dark sparkle flickering in his eyes while measuring me, licking his lips just like a hungry wolf. Starving to have a taste of my flesh. 'I look around and see us having raw, hot sex everywhere.'

'On top of that table?'

'On top of this table.'

'I can't believe the nerve you have.' He would gladly add more to the list of things he can't believe but the sight of delicate, red lace visibly takes his breath away, capturing his attention way too much to let him casually multitasking with both eyes and lips.

It's either stare or talk and considering the deepening silence, it's safe to take it one step further. I feel like a slave to my own greed of having him any way I can just to ease the pressure. It feels like a blurry dream, like an out of body experience. Almost as if he could reach out and take me. I lean back on the couch, resting my feet on the coffee table for a striking spectacle. He's hissing by the view. The soft lights illuminate all the right parts and I feel his gaze burning up my body, my back arches instinctively by the sensation.

'… fuck.' The word sounds ridiculously delicious from his mouth, equal parts frustration and lust vibrating in his tone while we're dealing with the same impossible task.

He's rearranging the computer from the desk to a more comfortable spot, repositioning himself on the bed with his back resting against the wall. I let the image of his built fill up both the monitor and my imagination. I'm pouting mutely, the white boxers are having a hard time coping with the situation and I'd be more than happy to offer a helping a hand. Or a helping mouth. Cozy up between his legs and let my fingertips run gently wherever they please, getting high on the fiery sounds he makes for me. The way he's moaning my name, again and again until he's out of breath.

I'm shivering on the inside, letting my instincts win over my right mind, giving into the brain melting urge to touch myself. I need to see his body reacting to me. I want to feel him through myself and let my memory fill up the gaps. I can recall every inch of him burning under me. In me.

'Let me see you.'

It's our night and we'll have it this way or the other. At this point, nothing really matters anymore. Time and space are relative when you know where you belong and I watch him, my home. It's not four walls and a roof. It's a voice and a heartbeat. A touch. A look in his eyes.

I'm trying to control myself but the sight is hypnotizing. There he is, laying bare, throbbing for my caring assistance. I'm blazing and he knows it. It's a real treat to see him pleasing himself in order to please me. His hands stroking gently all the way up and all the way down, making me gasp with pleasure. The ridges and the curve of his cock, imagining my own hands on top of his big ones, moving together, feeling the veins underneath the smooth skin.

I pull the panties to the side just like he would do it for me before getting a sample of his impact. I would sell my soul for a single brush of his lips but I'm not sure if I could purchase it back later on. A few more days and I'll get way more than a brush, what's not to enjoy in this very moment as we're counting back to make up for all the delayed orgasms. Lee groans with disbelief. My fingers keep on gliding effortlessly while our visual encounter leaves me dripping wet. I taste like a dream when lusting after him. He keeps a close eye on me, famished for a lick.

'How does it taste?'

'Like your mouth would.'

'You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.'

'If only you could feel me now...'

I draw small circles on the sweetest spot, imagining him sucking on it the way he likes to do, using his mouth to conquer me. My legs wrapped around his head tightly, gripping on his hair while pulling him closer in ecstasy. I catch him grinning and there's no doubt he can see right into my mind. I picture myself pushing him away, watching the grin fade away from his face as I wrap a hand around his throat, applying just the right amount of pressure and lowering myself to take over his world.

'Ride me...' I don't have time to think about the strange connection between our brains or wonder about how the hell is he reading me like a sacred treasure map. There's a swelter under the roof, sucking me inside more and more with every passing second.

Isn't the mind such a wonderful trap? Making up for the missing particles of our senses, replacing the blank parts to create an alternate reality? It's rich and vibrant, almost palpable. I'm whimpering loudly, imagining the bliss when he enters me slowly for the first time and we remain motionless for a minute to luxuriate in the perception of our bodies while melted together. My hands are not mine anymore. I can feel all of him. The familiar scent lingering around me, the taste in my mouth, his shaft pumping in and out. Our eye contact is perilous, unbreakable. I want to mark his skin with my teeth and nails, letting everyone know that he's mine.

The muscles start to vibrate softly as the final waves approach us. We're glistening with sweat, marching hand in hand to the climax. Seeing him shiver pushes me over the edge and I'm not in control of my own body anymore, rabidly trying to keep my vision focused but he turns into a red hot blur. Only the sound of his final moan fills my brain and I hear myself repeating his name.

The animal is still howling in my chest, but the sweet pain of riding it out alone is pounding through every particle of my being.

'… I love you. But I will destroy that lingerie with my bare hands when I get home, I hope you know that.' He sounds like I want to fuck him again, his tone both promising and threatening, penetrating my very soul.

'We'll see how far you can get, little monkey.'

 

 


End file.
